


Showtime

by ClarySage



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mostly porn, Rough Sex, barely a plot, cucking Chris again, slutty Leon, watching Leon get railed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-25 23:28:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17734709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClarySage/pseuds/ClarySage
Summary: Krauser watches Leon get railed in a bar, then takes him home and shows him how it's really done.





	Showtime

**Author's Note:**

> Little warning for unsafe sex here.  
> Cucking poor Chris never gets old, I'll write something nice for him soon to make up for how much of a jerk Krauser is to him in this fic. Yet another fic set in some strange timeline where Krauser never went nuts/got infected, although it's not related to any of my others.

 

Redfield doesn't look at all happy with the situation but Krauser is having the time of his life – there's something darkly satisfying about showing off Leon. It's like having a piece of art, some beautiful, skilfully carved sculpture. Others can stop and stare, run their hands over it, admire the craftsmanship. But at the end of the day it belongs to him.

 

Working with the BSAA is always fun, too. He can watch Redfield's eyes follow Leon, see that hunger there that he tries to hide, tries to pretend he doesn't feel. Krauser knows, though. He knows that hunger, knows exactly what it feels like. It's like turning, being one of those infected _things,_ that's what Leon does to people. Makes them so fucking _hungry_ , with his clear blue eyes and that lean body and the way he'll look up through his hair, so trusting and good and kind, and it makes Krauser just want to rip and tear and devour him like an animal. Leon looks good when he's hurting, too, wears it well. Krauser knows just how to hurt him, knows the right amount, knows exactly where the line is and how to get Leon as close to it as possible, where pleasure and pain mix so close that Leon can't even tell what he's feeling any more. Getting him that desperate and broken is a rare treat, but it's _his_ , none of these others are ever going to get to see his Leon that way. 

 

Leon is drinking at the bar quietly, alone. He's been at it for half an hour already and Redfield is getting impatient, probably not enjoying the loud music or the occasional guys getting handsy with him. The two of them are further along the edge of the bar, around the L-shaped corner where they have a perfect view all the way along to where Leon is, handsome and lonely and the perfect bait for the guy they're trying to reel in.

 

Occasionally some other hopeful soul approaches Leon but he warns them off easily enough, claims he's waiting for someone and goes quietly back to drinking. He looks like prey, Krauser thinks, but Leon knows exactly what he's doing. Redfield is worried about him but he has no idea, doesn't understand what's really going on here. To him it's an operation – hook the mark, get him to lead the way to wherever he's keeping the BOW they know he has, arrest him and get him to point them to the source. Fairly routine, other than the unusual setting. Jill Valentine usually handled anything that involved picking up some unsuspecting guy, but they had it on good authority that this one wasn't interested in women. He'd been operating around the club so they suspected the owner, and he'd been dumping mangled bodies for the past few weeks that had definitely been in contact with something viral. Redfield had known exactly who to call – Leon could hook any guy he wanted, and it wasn't like Krauser was going to let Redfield just play with his things without being there to watch. It's a rare treat to see Leon work his charms on someone else, after all.

 

The part Redfield doesn't get is that this is  _nothing_ for Leon, this is small-time. Leon is only here because he knows Krauser and Redfield are watching. He's playing, letting Krauser see just how well he's been taught, how well he can do. That desire to be good for him is part of what makes Krauser want to fuck Leon until he's broken; Redfield is going to get to see exactly how good Leon can be.

 

“There he is.” Redfield murmurs from next to him, looking down at his drink while Krauser scans the bar, flitting over the throngs of people until he spots the mark. He's a big guy, just Leon's type. Jet black hair, swept back, dark eyes. Fairly handsome, well off judging by his watch and the suit he's wearing. 

 

Leon isn't wearing anything so fancy. Dressing him up had been an enjoyable prelude to the night's events, picking out the clothes for him that made him look the way he needed to look – vulnerable, attractive, hungry. Simple had been the way to go, as simple as unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt to reveal a tempting V of his chest, the ridge of his collarbones and the dip between them, the smooth, well-defined curves of muscle at the tops of his pectorals. Perfect, Krauser had almost torn it all off him again but he'd held back, didn't want Leon satisfied just yet. They needed him hungry and wanting, worked up a little from having Krauser's hands on him while he prepared. Just a taste, just enough to put that dark little weight of lust in his eyes, like bait on a line.

 

It doesn't take long for the mark to notice Leon, who has definitely clocked him but pretends not to see him. He knows the game is on, though, because when the guy slides up next to him like a snake and pays for his next drink Leon doesn't warn him off, looks up at him sideways through his hair when the guy speaks to him. Krauser can't hear what they're saying but he doesn't need to, just watches Leon's pretty lips move, watches the way he takes a drink, eyes fluttering closed at the burn of the alcohol. 

 

Redfield is watching silently from next to him and Krauser can feel the tenseness, feel how closely he's watching every subtle movement Leon makes. They don't talk for long before the mark, standing over Leon's seat, drags a hand along the side of the smaller man's jaw to tilt his head up. He wants a good look, Krauser knows, and Leon doesn't resist at all. Everyone wants to look at Leon, this guy is no different. He knows his role well; Krauser is pleased with the way he keeps his hands in his lap, looks up at the guy with those pretty blue eyes, clear and hungry, lips parted just a fraction, just enough to make the guy think about kissing him. Leon says something then, Krauser doesn't know what but he knows the voice Leon will be using, soft and a little ragged, breathy with want. It has the desired effect and the mark brushes his thumb across Leon's bottom lip slowly, tracing the outline, seeming pleased when Leon lets him do whatever he wants. Blue eyes flutter closed again and Leon doesn't resist when the guy's big hand moves up a little to bury in his hair behind one ear, tilting his head to one side slightly. Leon nuzzles into the guy's palm and opens those heavy eyes of his again, looking up like a pretty pet and murmuring something against the mark's hand.

 

“What the hell's he doing,” Redfield mutters, worry evident in his voice. Krauser grins along the rim of his scotch glass, not taking his eyes off the show Leon is putting on for him, thinking about all the things he's going to do to Leon to reward him for being so good. 

 

“Enjoying himself, relax. He's doing what he was put there to do.”

 

Redfield falls silent again, concern radiating off him but thankfully shutting up for the time being so Krauser can watch his favourite show. Leon is speaking to the mark with his eyes heavy and hungry, running his own fingertips along his bottom lip where they guy had touched him. The mark's back is to them so they can't tell what his reaction is but Krauser doesn't need to see him to know he wants to fuck Leon through the bar. He's leaning on the polished wood, body tilted possessively towards Leon, sending out a clear signal with his body language to anyone else who might want to try their luck with the pretty newcomer. Nobody else dares, and whatever the guy is telling Leon makes him flush slightly and lower his eyes for a moment, glancing up again hungrily through his eyelashes and murmuring something when the mark tilts his chin up again. 

 

Another few words are exchanged and Krauser's lips curl in a feral smile when the mark finally leans in and kisses Leon the way he's meant to be kissed, rough and devouring. Redfield makes some small sound of surprise from next to him but Krauser doesn't care, the mark's drawn Leon up off his barstool and buried a hand in his hair, controlling the kiss while Leon takes it like he's starved, clever hands on the mark's big shoulders. Leon likes big shoulders, likes muscles, likes knowing that someone can hold him down. Krauser is usually all too pleased to fill that role but this guy looks like he can pull off being a cheap substitute for the evening, one big hand running up Leon's side, feeling out the shape of him under his shirt. 

 

When the mark breaks the kiss to draw back an inch Leon gasps for breath and leans back in needily, drawing him into another, lips wet and shiny. He really is a work of art, Krauser thinks, watching the flutter of his blonde lashes against his cheeks and the way he leans in to the bigger guy, his whole body broadcasting that he wants to be fucked from the flush across his skin to the curve of his hips.

 

The next time they break apart, just an inch, Leon breathes something against the guy's lips and Krauser knows exactly what it is, can see the shape of Leon's mouth as he whispers  _fuck me_ . There's not a soul on the planet who'd be dumb enough to refuse, and the mark might be a killer but he's also still just another thirsty guy in a bar. He tilts his head towards a staff door near the back of the bar and Leon nods, smiling with that little barely-there curve of his pretty lips that has the guy gripping him by the back of the neck and kissing him again.

 

“Show time,” Krauser grins, smacking Redfield lightly on the arm and getting up, waiting until the mark leads Leon through the door. They give it a minute and follow, heading through into a dimly lit stairwell that leads up, the muffled sounds from the club echoing through it and almost drowning out the small scuff of footsteps further up, the muffled murmur of a pleasured breath that Krauser knows like his favourite song.

 

For two big guys their stealth is pretty good – nothing compared to Leon when he doesn't want to be heard but good enough not to alert a single maniac who has Leon to occupy his attention. The fact that they aren't bristling with weapons for once helps, too. Krauser has a single handgun – Leon's – tucked in the back of his belt and Redfield has one on him somewhere as well, small enough to get past the club's fairly lax security. They'd gotten a quick pat down on the way in but nothing thorough, although he feels a little bereft without his favourite knife.

 

The sounds of the club get quieter the further up they go and they can hear a little more from Leon and the mark, just the odd breathless sound when he's shoved against the wall and kissed, or the soft murmur of words. They stay a couple of levels below and close to the wall, following silently, and the guy takes Leon up all the way before opening a door and ushering him inside. They hear it close and hurry the rest of the way, but while Redfield crouches down to pick the lock as quietly as possible Krauser thinks they need to have a very quick talk.

 

“Listen,” he says as quietly as possible, “I know you're a god damned white knight so you need to know something before you puss out on us and call this whole thing off. Leon is okay with this guy fucking him.” 

 

Leon is more than okay with it, he knows. They'd talked about it before the op, because they'd both known the score.  _He's not going to try and kill you without getting a taste, you know that._ He'd told Leon, who'd tilted his head a little at the words and given one of his wicked little smiles.  _Will you be watching me?_ He'd asked, standing his ground when Krauser had taken the two strides over to him and pinned him to the wall, growling against his throat.  _Every second, hard as a fucking rock,_ he'd snarled against Leon's neck, able to feel the vibration of his soft laugh and the clever hand that stroked though his hair, like soothing a wild beast.  _I'll put on a good show for you, then._ Leon had promised, voice breathless with lust.

 

Redfield looks up in surprise, frowning as the lock clicks open. He doesn't open the door, keeping hold of the handle.

 

“That wasn't part of the brief,” he hisses, “there's no need to put him through that.”

 

“Nobody is _putting him through_ anything, Redfield.” Krauser growls. “Here.” 

 

Leon knows Redfield well. He'd been well aware something like this was going to happen. Krauser digs in his shirt pocket and hands over the crumpled note Leon had scrawled just before they'd headed into the club. He'd said to give it to Redfield if he tried to play the hero, Krauser hadn't read it but it only seems to be three quick lines when it's unfolded.

 

“What does it say?” Krauser has to ask with a grin at Redfield's slight blush and the expression on his face, which is that of a man coming to a shocking revelation about his friends. Taking the note when it's handed over wordlessly, Krauser snorts in amusement at what Leon has written.

 

_I'm fine, Chris._

_You know I could take this guy, who do you think I am?_

_Don't ruin date night._

_-L_

 

“I don't understand you guys.” Redfield mutters, seeming like he isn't sure what to make of it all.

 

“You don't have to, just don't be a bitch about it when he lets the bad guy rail him before we arrest him. You're the one who requested us, you can suck it up and enjoy the show. Speaking of which,” Krauser gestures impatiently at the door and Chris glares at him for the various insults but doesn't bother to argue, fairly used to Krauser's abrasive manner. Krauser doesn't give a damn, Leon is the one with the social skills. 

 

The door thankfully doesn't creak as it opens and they scope out the wide, modern space with an arch through to a swimming pool at one end and an indoor garden in the central area, rain clattering against the glass roof. There's a fancy suite off to one side but Krauser can hear them in one of the rooms at the back, some kind of shower and sauna setup.

 

“Smoke in my hair from the club...” Leon is murmuring as they find positions where they can see without being detected, on the other side of the arch that leads into the showers with a good line of sight, behind a few of the taller plants. Leon helps out by choosing a place where he knows he'll be seen, toeing off his shoes and socks but leaving everything else on when he steps into the clean, white cubicle. It doesn't have a door and the mark watches with interest as Leon switches on the shower and walks under it, closing his eyes and tilting his face up into the spray with a pleased murmur as he lets it soak him. His hair and clothes are soon dripping and he turns with a little smile, tilting his head invitingly as he runs his fingers through his own hair and switches off the water. 

 

Krauser's eyes slide down to the way his soaked shirt clings to his chest, outlining the muscles and the flushed pink pebbles of his nipples. He's almost tempted to just put a round in the back of the guy's head right now and go in there himself but this is a lesson in restraint for him as much as it's an exercise in submission for Leon. He'll get his share later, and he's going to fuck Leon until he's a mess, until he can't even fucking  _walk_ when this is over.

 

“You're a crazy little thing,” the mark says, amused as he follows Leon in, not bothering to undress. 

 

Krauser thinks that's rich coming from a nutcase who kills people with a BOW, but still silently agrees with him. He has no idea how crazy Leon can get and he'll probably never find out, but the small taste he's getting tonight will be something to think about while he rots in jail. 

 

“Am I?” Leon replies, sweet, giving a soft laugh that trails off into a moan when the guy turns him, shoves his chest up against the cool tiles and pins him there.

 

“What do you want, pretty boy?” The mark hisses hotly against the side of Leon's throat, holding his hips and grinding into him firmly. A big hand slides around and up, running over the damp fabric of Leon's shirt until thick fingers can pinch and pull at Leon's nipples.

 

“Anything you'll give me,” Leon groans, tipping his head back a little onto the guy's shoulder and flushing at the wandering fingers and the kisses that work their way up his throat.

 

Leon has had training in resisting torture, has fought monsters and been thrown about more than anyone else Krauser knows, and though it all he's kept it together, carried on without a complaint, rarely ever let anyone know how much he's hurting when he gets injured. He's weak when it comes to pleasure, though, always has been. He can't resist it, can't hide the signs when he feels good, doesn't even try. The flush that rises on his skin makes a pretty picture and Krauser wants to do what the mark is doing, wants to run his hands and his teeth and his tongue over every inch of Leon until he's a mess, until he  _begs_ for it.

 

Redfield watches silently from next to him and when Krauser glances at him he looks half shocked and half horny at the way Leon is in there soaked to the skin with some huge guy grinding him into the wall, pleasured little gasps misting the tile his cheek is pressed against. 

 

“You like that?” The mark growls against the nape of Leon's neck, that place where his hair curls a little that, if the guy looked a little closer, might still have the fading imprint of Krauser's teeth bruising the pale skin. There's one on the inside of Leon's thigh as well right between the bruises from his holster straps, but he doubts the mark is going to get to see those little secrets. This is going to be quick and rough, after all. As far as the mark is concerned, this is just a lead-up to the main event.

 

“I want more...” Leon breathes, pushing his hips back like a cat in heat, demanding to be fucked. It's not a hard decision to make and the mark peels Leon's soaked jeans down, leaves the equally wet shirt on him because he's just as hungry as Krauser feels, just as desperate to bury himself inside this needy creature.

 

Krauser had prepped Leon beforehand, wasn't about to let him walk into this and possibly get taken dry. It was another excuse to work him up as well, get him nice and hungry and horny before the op, get him wanting it. He's still soft inside when the guy presses a couple of fingers into him, still slick enough to fuck and the guy unzips and rumbles out a laugh against the back of Leon's hair as he lines himself up.

 

“Been busy?” He asks as he strokes his hands down Leon's sides, settles one on his hip.

 

“Almost...” Leon murmurs, leaving it at that and letting the mark read into it what he will. The guy doesn't care enough to ask questions, probably hasn't even asked Leon's name, but this isn't about him. Krauser tenses in anticipation, knows Redfield is doing the same thing next to him. Leon knows he's being watched, must be able to feel the three hungry sets of eyes on him when the mark rocks his hips and pushes into him, thrusting up into the heat of his body in one long, firm movement. 

 

Leon is pressed into the wall by the force of it and gives an aching cry, a sound that tells Krauser everything he's feeling. The burn and fullness in the strained edge to it, the relief at finally being filled in the breathlessness. His fingers cling to the tiles and he doesn't complain when he isn't given any time to adjust to the guy's size – there's the briefest of pauses while the mark collects himself and then he starts to rut into Leon, who spreads his legs a little wider and leans on the wall, offers himself up and lets each hard slam knock a pleading breath out of him. 

 

The hungry little sounds Leon makes go straight to Krauser's cock and he wonders if Redfield is in the same situation, not about to tear his eyes away from Leon getting railed to take a look. And Leon really  _is_ getting railed, he's clawing at the wall as the guy fucks him hard, hard enough that he's going to have bruises where those rough hands are gripping his hips like their owner's life depends on it. 

 

“You're so—fucking--tight-” the mark growls, probably having expected Leon to be some loose bar whore and not a government agent who gets enough exercise at work that he's still tight as a virgin even after being prepped. Leon knows just how to _squeeze_ , how to work his muscles, and Krauser agrees wholeheartedly with the guy's half-coherent grunts about how good it feels inside Leon. There's nothing in the world quite like feeling Leon clamp down around his cock, feeling him quiver from the inside. The mark's getting a taste, but Krauser isn't interested in watching _him_ feel good. Instead he keeps his eyes on Leon, on the way he pants, the way his fingers curl in pleasure against the tiles, the way he's flushed and hard. He has his eyes closed as he reaches one hand down and wraps it around his own cock, just holding it there and letting the force of each thrust move him, keeping the rhythm. He has the tiny frown of pleasure between his brows that Krauser loves and he's breathing in desperate pants, biting his bottom lip to try and stifle the muffled moans that're being punched out of him.

 

Krauser knows just who he's thinking about as his cock starts to drip and twitch, every breath a low, hungry moan. He has a sneaking suspicion that the reason Leon is trying to muffle the sounds he's making is because those little  _ah, ah,_ moans being forced out of him occasionally come out sounding a little more like  _Jack, Jack_ and he's having trouble keeping himself on target.

 

The idea that Leon is so turned on he can barely remember what he's supposed to be doing has Krauser hard as diamonds, mentally urging Leon on, higher, closer. 

 

_Come on,_ he thinks, watching Leon's perfect ass being pounded into, watching him clutch at the wall with his free hand and whine as he drags himself closer and closer to that edge.  _Show me, you know I'm watching, you know Redfield is watching. You can do it._

 

Leon lasts another minute or so of being fucked quick and rough and hard before he jerks against the wall, a visible shudder running through the length of his body and his cock emptying against the tiles. He gives a long, satisfied moan and arches his spine with the rush of pleasure that slides through him, collapsing against the wall to twitch and gasp with the aftershocks. The mark keeps rutting into him and Leon braces against the wall like a good soldier and takes it, his heavy eyes still closed. Krauser can see the subtle shift in Leon's muscles with each press of the guy's cock into him, knows Leon is clamping down on him nice and tight by the way the guy doesn't even last another thirty seconds. When he comes he holds Leon's hips tight and buries himself deep, empties himself into the smaller man while Leon makes some small, breathless sound of pleasure. Krauser can tell he's enjoying getting his insides painted, probably because he knows how hard he's going to get fucked later because of it. There won't be a single trace of anyone else on Leon by morning, not if Krauser has anything to say about it.

 

“Jesus.” The mark pants, coming down, sliding out of Leon, who just murmurs at the feeling and turns lazily around to lean back against the tiles. 

 

“I needed that.” Leon claims, smiling a well-fucked smile and reaching down for his still soaked jeans, buckling them back up while the mark recovers from having just fucked someone more dangerous than any BOW he has hidden around the place. While the guy tucks himself in and zips his fly back up Krauser silently slides Leon's gun out from where it's tucked into the back of his belt, knowing Redfield will be doing the same thing. 

 

“Since you're soaked anyway, how about a dip in the pool?” The mark asks, taking Leon's elbow and guiding him out of the shower rooms and towards the arch into the pool room. Leon goes with a smile and a _why not?_ but he's no fool and even unarmed he's ready for anything that's going to jump out at him.

 

“I'll get you a towel, make yourself at home.” The mark turns once they pass the arch, trying to head back towards the shower rooms. There's a row of little red lights that span invisible tripwire-style lasers across the whole of the arch and Leon walks through them, brushing his fingers against them to signal to Krauser and Redfield what's keeping the BOW confined.

 

The gurgling snarl from inside the pool room comes as no shock to anyone and the mark quickly backs out into the garden area again, jerking in shock when the cold muzzle of a gun presses against the back of his neck.

 

“BSAA. Don't move.” Redfield growls, nodding to Krauser to go and help Leon as though he needed the encouragement. Krauser ignores the mark's anger as he realises he's been set up, instead heading through the laser-crossed arch and into the large room beyond. The water is churning and there's some kind of big, scaly croc-looking thing in there with teeth like a row of crooked tombstones and more eyes than a spider. Krauser has to wonder how the hell the guy even got it up there in the first place, although he's sure the BSAA interrogators will find out. 

 

“Enjoy the show?” Leon grins from a little further around the pool, eyes on the thing in the water as it makes a beeline for him, a thick collar around its neck that must be keeping it from passing through the arch. There's blood around the edges of the pool, some old and some fresh, and a table of assorted chunks of flesh dripping horribly next to a sun lounger. 

 

“Almost as much as you did,” Krauser throws back, tossing the gun to Leon because there's a nice big knife on the blood-soaked table and stabbing something will take his mind off how much he wants to fuck that little tease. 

 

Leon catches the gun and immediately puts four perfect rounds into some of the thing's eyes, popping them like grapes. It roars in pain and thrashes in the water, reaching the edge near Leon and dragging itself up, savage claws scraping against the tiles. It's nothing they haven't dealt with before, though, and like he'd told Redfield earlier – this guy is small-time. Anything short of a tyrant is an easy ride for them these days, unless it can do something weird like spew out spores or grow more limbs. It doesn't seem like their mark bought the luxury model though, and Krauser is pleased to see that it bleeds normally and isn't regenerating – his two favourite things to see when he's fighting BOWs.

 

Leon makes a little  _Whoa!_ sound as he dodges the swipe of a huge claw and Krauser runs up on its other side, listening to the pop-pop-pop as Leon puts a few more bullets in the thing. There's another few from across near the arch where Redfield must have secured the mark and decided to join in, although they don't really need his help with this level of pest control.

 

The hide on the creature is made from some kind of chitin plates and looks thicker than his knife is going to be able to handle, so Krauser whips around and boots it in the bottom of the jaw as hard as he can. It snarls and starts to turn towards him but Leon shoots it a couple more times to keep its attention, trying to find its vulnerable spot before he runs out of bullets. Redfield takes out the last of its pitch black eyes from across the room and it makes a godawful shrieking sound, the chitin parting to reveal a huge, bloodshot eye just behind its collar on Krauser's side.

 

G-virus, he figures, and looks up at the eye, which is the size of a car tyre and level with the top of his head. They all know what to do in this situation and he's the closest, so he waits for it to stagger towards Leon before using its scaly knee as a boost, hopping up and gripping the metal collar to keep himself in place when it starts to thrash again. 

 

“Stab it, Krauser!” Redfield calls out, which would make him want to roll his eyes if he wasn't on the back of a giant fucking monster.

 

“What the hell else do you think I climbed up here for?” He snarls, getting a good grip on the knife handle before swinging it down, right into the middle of the thing's bulging eye. 

 

It doesn't even roar when it dies, which is a little disappointing. It just immediately goes limp and Krauser figures he hit something vital as he pulls the knife out again, lip curling in disgust as streams of greyish fluid start to gush out of the wound and the whole, huge eye starts to deflate.

 

“That never gets any less disgusting,” Redfield comments as he walks over, tucking his gun back into wherever the hell he'd been keeping it. Krauser takes the opportunity to stab the croc a few more times just to relieve some stress, although it also has the added effect of making sure the thing stays dead. They have a habit of getting back up again but this one won't be, not if he has anything to say about it. He has _plans_ tonight, he's not about to let an oversized crocodile get a second round in and distract him from what they're going to be doing as soon as they can ditch Redfield.

 

“Oh, nice.” Leon says as he makes his way around the huge jaws just in time to see Krauser's knife snap off in something gristly. 

 

“Cheap piece of crap.” He mutters, tossing it at Redfield's feet just to be a dick and hopping down off the croc.

 

“Leon, are you okay?” Redfield starts, just like Krauser _knew_ he would the moment it was all over. He sounds worried and Krauser briefly considers shoving him into the pool but restrains himself.

 

“Nope, I'm traumatized. You good if Jack takes me home?” Leon asks lightly, tapping at one of the croc's huge teeth with the edge of his boot just to also check that it's definitely staying dead.  


 

Redfield gives him that look that Krauser is coming to enjoy immensely, the mixture of surprise and concern and just a hint of jealousy.

 

“Are you sure that's what you want? That was pretty rough, if you need-”

 

Leon cuts him off with a snort, grinning. 

 

“Claire's right, you worry too much. That wasn't rough,” he claims, letting his heavy eyelids lower a little, dark with all that lust in him. “That was an appetizer.”

 

 

TBC

 


End file.
